


Why dancing on top of a volcano is a bad idea!

by ViolaMoon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Natural Disasters, Pre-Hogwarts, Volcanoes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-29 01:55:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18297926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViolaMoon/pseuds/ViolaMoon
Summary: Many muggles knew the story of Pompeii that Mount Vesuvius erupted with little warning, killing most of its residents and covering the town in volcanic ash in 79AD. What they did not know however was that it was a Wizard who caused the eruption. This is his story.





	Why dancing on top of a volcano is a bad idea!

**Pompeii 79AD**

 

Zaccaria was known as an eccentric person amongst the local population. Wizards in Ancient Rome lived somewhat out in the open as people were superstitious, and as long as Zaccaria didn’t use spells out in public, he could do whatever he wanted in terms of magic.

 

He made a living by selling off magical amulets, that offered protections or special powers to the residents of Pompeii and neighbouring Herculaneum. He also provided binding spells where he helped people gain a favourable outcome in, for example, athletic events, marriages, business endeavours. Suffice it to say, he did well for himself. He was careful of course - it was one thing to play with people’s superstitions, and another to reveal that he was helping these people with real magic.

 

His passion, however, was spell creation. He had not yet succeeded but his life’s ambition was to influence wizarding development for the better. This is what had caused the locals of Pompeii to label Zaccaria as  _ eccentric _ . There often came strange smells, sounds and lights from his dwelling, followed by a flustered Zaccaria leaving the building swearing and yelling loudly, waving his hands in the air like a mad man.

 

His string of failures had convinced Zaccaria that he needed to start small – something fun, not life-changing and complicated. This was not fun at all in Zaccaria’s eyes but the locals had begun to ask questions, so he toned it all down to avoid suspicion.  

 

One beautiful August day, he watched a group of young people dancing in the square. They were dancing the Tarantella, a folk dance from the area. He watched on as two lines, one with women in colourful red gowns and one with men wearing white trousers and a bright red coat, danced towards each other. They joined in pairs, dancing in circles and different formations while the local band played. Their feet were moving as if they were independent of the rest of their bodies, and this intrigued Zaccaria. Could he make a spell to simulate this?

 

Leaving the young people behind, he started the short journey back to his house. His mind filling with his calculations and estimations, so much so that he did not take notice of all the festivities around him. Zaccaria was not the best dancer and he hoped that he could develop a spell to let him dance the Tarantella.

 

* * *

 

 

Several days later, Zaccaria had a spell, now he just had to test it. He started small, by casting the ‘dancing legs spell’ on the chairs and tables in his house.  _ “Tarantallegra,” _ Zaccaria said, pointing his wand at his favourite stool. The stool proceeded to have a life of its own, its four legs dancing across the kitchen floor. However, things started to go pear-shaped when he cast the spell on multiple objects at the same time. Loud bangs and crashes could be heard throughout the town and a plume of smoke rose from the area where his house was.

 

Stepping out of the hole where a door had once stood, Zaccaria coughed and tried to waft the smoke away from him. The chairs and tables had caught fire and proceeded to light the place up. Once he was safely out, he quickly extinguished the fire with his wand but left the house the way it was. he locals would get too suspicious if everything in the house was just okay. After informing the few onlookers that he was fine, Zaccaria walked away from his home to give the smoke some time to dissipate and, at the same time, he thought about his spell. Maybe he needed to do it somewhere with more space?

 

He just started walking, not even really sure where he wanted to go. It needed to be outside the town at least. Zaccaria ignored the strange looks that followed him in his charred garments and smoky hair. He was too absorbed in his own thoughts to pay them any mind. His spell was potentially dangerous for something that should bring people joy and this troubled him. Maybe he shouldn’t have used the spell on several objects at once or in such an enclosed space. Despite this, he wanted to continue with his experiment. He would fulfil his dream of being able to dance the Tarantella if it was the last thing he did.

 

The scenery around him changed from houses and market stalls to larger homes, then to farms and finally open plains. Zaccaria looked around and wondered how he had managed to get out of the town so fast - it seemed only five minutes ago that he had been standing next to his smoking house. He looked up and away from his thoughts and saw the spectacular sight of Mount Vesuvius in front of him. Silenced by the beauty of the mountain with its green base and terracotta summit, and it was here that Zaccaria got the most fabulous idea. He would dance at the peak of the giant in front of him. What a spectacular place to dance well for the first time!

 

Zaccaria thought about Apparating to the summit, but he had never seen the top and could not picture it clearly in his mind. Therefore, for the sake of safety, he chose to climb as much as he could, and then Apparate short distances when he could see the end destination. Despite Apparating, it still took him several hours to reach the peak of the mountain. It was now dusk and Zaccaria looked around at the darkening scenery around him. The ridge looked different than he imagined it. There was a large stone ring at the top and in the middle, a great hole which was a few feet lower than the ring itself.

 

Zaccaria sat for a while and watched the sun go down. It was tranquil and stilled his troubled soul. He was the only wizard in Pompeii and this made him lonely, for the non-magical locals considered him weird and only interacted with him when they needed his help. The wizards and witches in the Roman wizarding community considered Zaccaria a failure and that had led him to have a solitary life.

 

Having rested enough, Zaccaria was eager to try out his spell. He stood up and stretched his legs. 

 

Conjuring some light, he pointed his wand at his legs, took a deep breath and said, “ _ Tarantallegra. _ ”

 

His legs started to move of their own accord, and he laughed to himself and raised his arms in the air in jubilation. He wasn’t a failure after all! His only issue was that it was nothing like the merry dance he had witnessed days before. The spell just made his legs move around like crazy. This tired the wizard out and he had to rest before he tried again. This time he decided to focus on his feelings about the dance as he cast the spell but his arms were shaking as he did so.

 

Nothing happened. Zaccaria frowned and wondered why it hadn’t worked. He looked at the trajectory his wand had pointed in and realised that he hadn’t cast it on his legs.

 

Zaccaria had cast the spell on the mountain.  

 

He had barely any time to reflect on the possibilities of the spell affecting the mountain when he felt the slightest tremor beneath his feet.

 

_ ‘An earthquake?’ _ he thought.  _ ‘I suppose they’re not uncommon here.’ _

 

Even if the spell had caused it, he had to move as he needed to get to safety if it really was an earthquake.  He Apparated directly to his home and Zaccaria began to clear the rubble that the fire had caused before going to bed after a long day.

 

The next day he awoke and went about his business like there was nothing wrong. There were small tremors but this was normal in the area, so it was only when he heard shouts outside the window that he realised something was wrong. Zaccaria looked out and saw what looked like snow, sprinkling down from the sky. But no, it wasn't snowing, he surmised as he stepped outside, it was ash! His face went pale. Had he caused this? The wizard’s palms grew sweaty and he began to hyperventilate. He was drawn away from the panic when he heard a series of crashes and explosions all around him. A load of debris had fallen on the town, destroying anything they hit. Those inside buildings had perished instantly.

 

Turning on his tail, he bolted into his house and hastily began packing a bag. Just as he was about to cram another book into it, he stopped in his tracks. Dropping the bag in an instant, he began frantically scanning all his books. Zaccaria had to have something that could help. This was his fault. His hands shook as he pulled ‘A Magical Guide to Geology’ off the shelf. After desperately searching through the book, he found nothing. Wizards had not researched enough into volcanos and therefore those affected had just Apparated away.

 

Zaccaria would not leave his neighbours to their fate. Picking up the bag that he had previously dropped on the floor, he dumped the contents out and started stuffing all the healing supplies he had into the bag. If he couldn’t stop the eruption, he could at least help those who were hurt. Zaccaria grabbed a bundle of robes and pointed his wand at them. Now he had a whole bundle of bandages ready just in case. Taking a deep breath, he took a determined step out of his house and in the direction of the screams.

 

Zaccaria had helped those he could. Many were so injured that even magic couldn’t save them. Zaccaria made sure they did not feel any pain; he had kept a couple of vials of the Draught of Living Death just for this situation. He gave them a couple of drops so that they would peacefully pass without suffering. Within two hours, he had exhausted his supplies and could help no more, other than making more bandages and relying on non-magic healing methods as best he could.

 

The screams grew fewer and fewer as time went on, as a series of surges of hot rock and gas still flowed down the mountain destroyed everything in its path. It was here that Zaccaria knew that there was no saving the town. So many people were gone, his eyes shone with tears that he did not allow to fall as he helped a group of young children move further towards the shore, hoping they would be safe there. The wizard did his best to put on a brave face - Zaccaria could not let the children become more frightened than they already were. He instructed them to sit behind a short wall which offered little protection, but it was the best he could do.

 

Zaccaria’s heart ached. He had caused this. Why had he been so desperate to cast that spell? Why had he been so thoughtless? He was pulled from his thoughts by a small hand. He looked down and saw a young girl with big brown eyes, covered in ash and dirt. Zaccaria placed a hand on top of her head. 

 

“Everything will be okay,” he said, out of the corner of his eye he could see another surge. It was no use, they had nowhere to run, he could save himself but Zaccaria was no coward. He pulled the small group of children to him and told them to close their eyes as he sang them a lullaby.

 

**Present day**

 

Muggle archaeologists discovered a new group of skeletons behind a wall in the ancient city of Pompeii, they were surprised to find an older man shielding a group of children with his back with no genetic link to them. He was given the surname Innocenti after his choice to protect the innocents of Pompeii.


End file.
